The next afternoon, after hearing nothing from Will all morning, Amy was surprised when he came to her as she was leaving lunch.
“I understand you’ve been inquiring about airline flights back to the United States,” he said, without preamble.
“Yes, I have. I have to be realistic about what might happen next. You might get those test results and kick me right out of the palace.”
“You know that isn’t so.”
“I don’t know anything.”
He looked at her in silence for a moment, then took her arm. “Come with me.”
“Wait—where?” she asked, being dragged helplessly along with him.
“I want to show you something.”
“You’ll see.”
He led her to a wide hallway she had not yet seen, and stopped in front of one of at least twenty-five oil portraits.
“You see this?” he asked, gesturing toward the painting of an old man with a long gray beard that made him look exactly like Father Time. “That is your great-great grandfather, King Leopold II. He was a hero during the Great War, and is still remembered for his humanitarian policies.”
“I—”
“And this…” Will said, his voice terse. He indicated another painting, this one of a young woman with glossy dark hair piled high on her head and delicate ringlets framing her blue-eyed beauty. She held a baby in her arms, and had the sweetest expression of serenity. “This is your great-grandmother. She died during World War I while smuggling refugees out of France, when the train they were on was bombed. She left behind a toddler, your grandfather.” He pointed at the baby.
Amy’s breath caught in her chest. It was hard to imagine that kind of courage and heroism, but it was the baby who touched her most. A child left alone in such tumultuous times. It broke her heart.
Will led her farther down the hall. “This,” he said, pointing at a painting of a young boy with a white pony, “is your uncle Frederick. Or it would have been. He died a year after this portrait was painted, when he lost his life to childhood leukemia.”
Amy swallowed hard, looking at the sweet-faced boy who had died so young. She couldn’t even imagine the toll it must have taken on his parents.
Will didn’t wait for a response. He pulled her farther down the hall and stopped in front of a portrait of a middle-aged couple. The portrait was different, in that the paint was scarred in places and the frame looked new. “These are your grandparents,” he said solemnly. “Look at your grandmother’s face. Look at her eyes.” He pointed, then looked at Amy. “Are those not the eyes you look at in the mirror every morning when you wash your face, and every evening when you brush your teeth?”
“I don’t know!” She was on the verge of losing her composure. “I’m so afraid.”
“Afraid? What on earth do you have to fear? Is the prospect of your Lufthanian heritage so terrible?”
“No, that’s not it at all.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “What’s terrifying is to come all this way, to begin to believe and to feel at home here, only to find out it’s all been a mistake. Where would I be then?” She couldn’t even bear to think of coming so close to finding her real parents, even if only in the memory of others, only to have it slip through her fingers.
“Amé.” Will took her by the shoulders, his grip hard against her skin. “There is no mistake. I don’t understand why you’re so reluctant to accept this.”
“Because I’m not the type of person that this kind of thing happens to,” she said. “It’s not that I’m jinxed or anything, but my life tends to have a lot of close calls without ever really…I don’t know…I’m just not particularly lucky.”
Will looked at her steadily before saying, “Your luck is about to change.”
“You don’t know how much I hope you’re right,” she said quietly.
“Come with me.” He led her into the nearest room and took her to the window. A broad sweep of snowy valley lay before them, dotted with barns and little farmhouses with smoke rising from their chimneys. “This is your land. Your country. This is where you were born. This is where your family worked the soil, fought for their freedoms, died for their country.” His eyes softened. “Amé, this…” He let go of her and gestured at their surroundings. “Right here, where we stand, this building is where you were born. Your first breath still lingers in the air here.”
Her eyes burned, and her throat felt as if it had swelled shut.
“You know this is the truth,” Will went on. “I can see it in your eyes. I saw it the moment you laid eyes on the castle.”
It was true, as soon as she’d seen the castle of Lufthania, it was as if someone had struck a haunting minor chord of familiarity. But she had attributed that to the fact that the castle looked like the fairy tale abode she’d imagined in every story her mother had read to her as a child. She’d imagined it a thousand times or more, with its snow-peaked spires and shadowy eaves.
And here was Will, looking every inch the part of the handsome prince.
“Last night when I was trying to go to sleep,” she said, “you know that feeling when you’re halfway between being asleep and awake?”
He nodded.
“Well, I kept hearing snippets of conversations. Voices I couldn’t identify, yet I felt like I knew them. I don’t know if it was a dream, or my imagination or actual memories, but for the first time I really believed that maybe you were right about who I am.” She shrugged, so full of emotion she thought she might burst. “If it’s all a mistake, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“You have absolutely nothing to worry about,” Will told her tenderly. “I promise you that. You will truly live happily ever after.”
“Excuse me, sir.” An elderly gentleman entered, holding a newspaper. “I’m sorry to interrupt but I’ve been looking for you.”
Will turned and looked surprised. “Yes, Franz?”
“Franz?” Amy repeated, sniffing and trying to regain her composure.
Will cleared his throat. “Yes, Amelia, this is Franz Burgess. My private secretary.”
“Franz Burgess.” She gave Will a look, glad for a little levity, and held her hand out to the older man. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m glad to finally meet you.”
Franz looked at her extended hand for a moment, then took it awkwardly and gave a bow. “Thank you, Miss Scott.” He turned his attention back to Will. “If I may have a private word with you, sir…?”
Will looked put out. “Is privacy absolutely necessary?”
“Perhaps you can decide for yourself.” He handed the newspaper to Will.
He opened it and even from a couple of feet away, Amy couldn’t help but notice the large picture of herself on the front page. “Hey, what’s that?” She reached for the paper and read the headline.
De Verlorene Prinzessin von Lufthania ist zurückge kommen.
Not for the first time since she’d arrived, she wished she’d taken German in high school instead of French.
“What does it say?”
Will’s face was still with concentration as he read. “That the lost princess of Lufthania has returned. That a palace insider has confirmed this.” He folded the paper and handed it back to Franz. “Who is responsible for this?”
“I do not know, sir.”
“Any ideas?”
“No, sir.” Franz’s face betrayed nothing. Amy guessed he would make a great poker player.
Will sighed. “Was it not made clear to the staff that Amelia’s presence here was to remain confidential until the test results were final?”
“It was made clear,” Franz confirmed. “But the media can be very determined. Sometimes it isn’t possible to hide the truth from them.”
Amy watched this exchange curiously. Was Will accusing Franz of leaking the news? Was Franz setting up his own defense by saying the media could get what they wanted no matter what?
It didn’t occur to her that it could have any implications for her until Will dismissed Franz and turned to her with an apology. “I don’t know who would have done this. I assure you that this kind of breach of privacy doesn’t usually occur here.”
She shrugged. “Does it really matter that much? Surely you can call the paper and have them set the story straight for tomorrow’s edition.”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand. For twenty-five years a good number of people in this country have been hungry for your family’s return to the throne. Now that the story is out, I’m afraid it won’t be easy to hide. Particularly since it’s the truth.”
She sighed. She wasn’t going to argue about that again. “Surely you were prepared for the possibility the press would find out I was here. I still don’t see why this is such a huge deal.”
“Because now you are expected. Now your people want to see you, to hear from you. They want to know that you’re staying.”
“But I’m probably not!”
He splayed his arms. “Then you see the problem.”
She did. “Do you think the reporter who wrote this might take some kind of quote from you, or even from me, about how this is a mistake?”
“I’m not going to say that this is a mistake.” He walked to the window. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, and I’ll take full credit for all of them, but not this. This is no mistake.”
Already she knew him well enough to believe him. He wasn’t about to make a public announcement that she was not Princess Amelia.
She could even see the problem with doing that before the test results proved or disproved it conclusively. There was a possibility—even she was prepared to admit it—that the results would be positive.
In that case…Well, in that case she didn’t know what she would do. She couldn’t even allow herself to think about it yet. She wanted—no, she needed—to be prepared for the worst. And the worst would be if she found out, after all of this, that she didn’t belong. That she was still, underneath it all, an anonymous orphan.
“When will the test results come back?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I’ve asked them to rush. It may be within the week.”
She calculated when the winter ball was, since that was the first royal event in which her identity would be questioned publicly. It was six days away. People could speculate all they wanted within that time. “Then we’ll just have to wait it out,” she said.
He looked at her for a moment, then laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You still don’t understand your importance here, do you?”
“So far, I have no importance here,” she said defiantly.
“At this point,” he said, too patiently, “it ceases to matter what the test results say. At least as far as the Lufthanian people are concerned. Your picture has appeared on the front page of the newspaper, looking, incidentally, so like your mother that it’s unmistakable. A palace insider has confirmed that you are, indeed, the missing Princess Amelia.” He expelled a long breath. “This will not go away.”
“Meaning…?” She had the ominous feeling that whatever he was getting at required more of her than of anyone else.
“Meaning you are expected to be the princess. Now.”
“But I can’t!” The whole idea was so absurd, she could barely formulate a response. “I can’t just be a princess because the newspapers want one.” She threw her hands up in the air. “Can’t you just tell the press about the pending blood test?”
“And cast your legitimacy into doubt?” He scoffed. “When you are formally welcomed back—and you will be—it must be without any shadow of doubt having ever been placed on you.”
“Okay, I can see that. But why say anything at all, then? Why would I need to make a public appearance before, say, the winter ball next week? I can just be the quiet, mysterious visitor.”
Will turned around and snapped his fingers. “That’s it! You’re a genius.”
“No, I’m not—”
He shot her a silencing look, but it was tinged with humor. “I’ll have Franz announce that you’re not making your first public appearance until the ball. By then you, and anyone else who wants it, will have definitive proof.” He nodded, pleased with himself. “That will work.”
She didn’t answer right away. If the blood test results came back positive, and if she truly was the missing Princess Amelia, then she would have a duty to the country.
Wouldn’t she?
She wasn’t entirely sure how to think about that, or how to decide just what that duty would be, or how far she needed to go to fulfill it. But certainly she couldn’t just turn her back on Lufthania.
Or on Will.
He had come so far to find her. Done so much. And he’d done it all with the best interests of his people at heart. The act of abdicating the throne was so completely selfless, she felt terrible even contemplating leaving him to this position he didn’t want.
She wasn’t sure she wanted the position, either. Sure, it was glamorous to sit in Dentytown and imagine being a princess, but now that she was here she saw the tremendous responsibility that went along with the job.
Then again, if it was true and she was Princess Amelia, she was the only possible heir. She couldn’t refuse the position in favor of a younger sibling, or a cousin, or anyone else. If she was Princess Amelia, it was up to her or Will. That was it.
And if she refused the position, and it had to be Will, he would have to abandon his hopes of actually helping his country in a substantial way.
The weight of her predicament settled heavily on her shoulders. For the first time, she understood the serious implications that Will had been wrestling with all this time.
“Let’s just say you’re right,” she said slowly. “What then?”
He looked surprised. “If I’m right about what? About you?”
She couldn’t even say the words. She merely nodded.
He smiled. “So you are starting to see it.”
“No,” she objected quickly. “No, I’m just asking you theoretically. What would happen if I—or anyone—turned out to be the missing princess?”
To his credit, he didn’t leap on her question with a triumphant Aha! Instead, he answered her matter-of-factly. “The transition would be smooth, except for a great deal of celebration in the country. And, to be honest, probably a bit of media coverage.”
“But what, exactly, would happen? Would you just stand in the town square and announce there’s a new monarch or what?”
He smiled. “It would be announced from the palace. As would my abdication. You would be introduced formally as the princess and take up residence here. You would be given a private secretary, who would arrange your appearances and charitable engagements. Then,” he said, shrugging, “you could do whatever you like.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Anything?”
“Your life is your own.”
“So, then my family truly could come and stay? Indefinitely? Or my friends?”
“Of course,” he answered. “There is no strict protocol for you to follow. You could write your own script, so to speak.”
For one crazy moment, she could imagine it. She could see herself living in Lufthania and waking up daily to this beautiful landscape.
Thing was, when she pictured it, she pictured Will. For some reason, he was all wrapped up in her picture of Lufthania and of palace life. It was more difficult for her to picture herself alone in the palace than here with him.
“Are you considering staying, or trying to think of a way to tell me you’re leaving?” Will asked, bringing Amy out of her thoughts.
She hesitated. “I’m wishing the test results would come back so I would know whether or not there was really anything for me to consider.”
He touched her cheek. “There is much for you to consider,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. “Make no mistake about that.”
She swallowed but said nothing.
Their gazes lingered on each other for a moment.
Then, suddenly, Will was brisk. “I have business to attend to,” he said, stepping away from her. “I trust you can make it back to your rooms.”
She nodded. “No problem. I’ll find my way.”
“Good. I’ll see you later, then. I hope you’ll think about what I said.”
He barely waited for her response before turning and striding from the room.
Amy stood still, listening to his footsteps recede down the hall and disappear before she let out a long, pent-up breath.
But she wouldn’t breathe fully until the test results came back.
Will strode from the room and straight down to his office, although he couldn’t imagine getting any work done right now. Amé was an incredible distraction. He could well imagine spending the next twelve months anticipating her appearance in the mornings and tossing repartee back and forth with her all day.
What he imagined for the nights didn’t bear thinking about.
He knew from the outset that this was an emotional situation for him. How could it not be? Despite his feeling of illegitimacy, he had been groomed nearly his entire life for the position he was trying so desperately to abandon now. And there was no guarantee he could succeed in the civil service. He was going to have to begin small and run for public office at the next election. It was entirely possible that the people wouldn’t elect him.
But then again, if they didn’t want to elect him to office, then surely they didn’t want him as their prince, either.
By that logic, there was no way he was doing the wrong thing. Being right didn’t make it any easier to do.
If Amé had been homely, it would have been easier. Homely and dull. And eager to take the throne. That would have been perfect. He could have passed the reins to her and moved on without looking back.
But when he contemplated leaving Amé, it was much more difficult. It wasn’t that he thought she couldn’t handle the position. He knew she could. She was a strong, vibrant woman, with more than enough energy for everything she’d have to do. She didn’t need him.
It was worse. He was starting to fear that he, given half a chance, might end up needing her. And that prospect was intolerable.
When he got to his office, he found Franz there, talking on the telephone. When his eyes alighted on Will, he held up a hand, thanked whomever he was speaking with and promised to call them back, then hung up the receiver.
“What are you still doing here, Franz?” Will asked, checking his watch. “Shouldn’t you have gone half an hour ago?”
“I’m afraid something has come up,” Franz said, jotting something on a notepad. “A small matter of state.”
“What is it?”
“A cousin to the Princess of Carsoria has passed away. The Duchess of Kalone. We’ll need to send a representative to the funeral.”
“The day after tomorrow. I was thinking perhaps General Heim—”
“I’ll go.”
Franz looked surprised. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said I’ll go to the funeral. I met the duchess several times and liked her very much. A lovely young woman.”
“She was ninety-four. Perhaps you have her confused with someone else.”
Will tried to hide his irritation. He wanted to get away for a few days, to collect himself and hopefully shake this disturbing interest he was developing in Amé. This was the perfect excuse. “This may be my last royal duty, Franz. I’ll do it.”
“Very well, sir.” Franz nodded uncertainly. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
“Good.” Will went to look out the window so Franz couldn’t read anything into his expression. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.” He turned to face Franz. “I trust you will help Amé if she needs anything?”
“As you wish.”
Will nodded, satisfied. “Excellent. Then I’ll go tomorrow and come back in a few days. By then maybe the DNA test results will be complete and we can make a formal announcement of Amé’s return.”